


Getting By

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-04
Updated: 2006-01-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to get by with a little helpfrom our friends.





	Getting By

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Title: Getting By 

Author: mimic117 

Email: 

Rating: Squeaky G 

Category: V 

Timeline: Anywhere around season 6 or 7 but no spoilers. 

Summary: Sometimes it's easier to get by with a little help from our friends. 

Archive: Please do. I'll get Gossamer and Ephemeral myself. 

Disclaimer: The characters originally belonged to CC and company. The rating belongs to the MPAA. The title was inspired by a Beatles song and I don't own that either. 

Author's note: This is a very inadequate love song to my husband and children, who were such angels when I gave myself the lovely gift of flu for Mother's Day this year. 

Thanks: To Char, Dan Walker, and my ever-faithful Twinsy for giving this the once-over and thumbs up. 

Dedication: To Nancybratt, who is unfailingly cheerful, comforting and supportive of so many people. You deserve to have that same cheer, comfort and support each and every day, for you are loved and appreciated more than you can ever know. 

* * *

Getting By  
by mimic117 

It was like swimming through mud, thick and clinging, clogging and smothering, thoroughly unpleasant yet such a struggle to break free. Scully recognized the state between asleep and awake, the gritty-mouthed, fuzzy-headed, not-quite-conscious feeling of wanting to wake up but being too sick to care if she did. She floated somewhere in a hazy limbo of flu-induced lethargy, vaguely aware that she was home and safe and far too warm for her own good, until a noise outside the bedroom caught her attention a bit more firmly than she was prepared for. 

Did she really want to get out of bed to see what was going on? No. At that particular moment, it didn't matter to her if an entire gaggle of gray aliens was in her living room, preparing to turn her apartment into a spaceship and fly her to Alpha Centauri. 

Maybe the weightlessness would ease some of her muscle aches. 

A metallic clang rang out, muffled by the closed bedroom door, but no less a death knell to any plans she'd had of remaining in bed and letting her intruders wreak whatever havoc they chose. 

Scully threw back the blankets and shivered as the room's air contacted her hot skin. Perfect. The fever-and-chills stage. 

She painfully levered herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes reluctantly focused, searching for the robe she'd been wearing the previous night. She wasn't leaving the bedroom without her robe. Her apartment felt like it had been refrigerated overnight. Where was her damned robe? 

She looked down at her legs. Ah. Apparently she'd never taken it off. She held out a tired arm and studied it. Yep. That was her robe all right. Flattened and creased and looking like she'd slept in it. Which she had. It appeared her observation skills were still intact. Too bad she couldn't say the same for her motor functions. 

It took a moment to achieve upright and stable, but once she did, Scully found she could shuffle with the best of the octogenarians. She'd made it around the bed, on a steady course to reach the door in under twenty minutes, when she remembered two things. One, there was someone in her apartment. Chances were really good that it was just her mother, who'd called the previous night and used her maternal radar to deduce her child's state of health. But two, she couldn't be sure of that and her gun was safely locked away in her end table. She turned and looked. Way back there. On the other side of the bed. 

She swiveled slowly toward the door again and caught sight of the baseball bat standing in the corner. Her father had always insisted a bat was an essential part of every woman's bedroom decor. Yeah. She could take the bat. Screw the gun. She wasn't sure she had the strength to load it anyway. She'd just take the bat with her. Mom would understand and anyone else wouldn't expect it. Besides, it was right on her way out the door so she didn't need to backtrack, which she wasn't entirely sure she was capable of anyway. Good plan. Smart. Sensible. Where was she going again? 

Scully frowned at the sound of clinking outside the door. Oh. Right. The intruder. 

More shuffling got her to the door, where she reached out and grasped the handle of the bat. 

Uh oh. It was heavier than she remembered. Probably heavier than her gun. Possibly heavier than dark matter at the moment. Could she lift it? 

An experimental tug confirmed that she couldn't. Not without a forklift and at least two other people to help. 

There was nothing else to do. She'd have to drag it. 

Dragging took less effort than lifting, but only because she couldn't manage to lift her arms, either. Still, she needed _some_ kind of protection in case of hostile entities. 

She grasped the door knob and applied all her strength to turning it. A gush of air when the door opened set her shivering again. 

Maybe she should just cough on any intruders and give them her flu. That might be crueler than a baseball bat across the knees. 

The noises she could hear were louder in the hallway and sounded like they coming from the kitchen. Whoever it was seemed to be trying to keep it down and not succeeding very well. She stopped shuffling when a muttered snatch of song floated out to the hall. She couldn't quite tell what it was, but she recognized the baritone grumble. 

No. Not Mulder. Please God, don't let it be Mulder. 

Now she could clearly hear whispered bits of "Jailhouse Rock." 

It _was_ Mulder. 

Why? Why couldn't it be her mother? Why Mulder? She didn't want him to see her this way. She was sick and achy and shivering and her hair was messy and she probably smelled bad and she was wearing a wrinkled robe she'd slept in and she didn't want him to see her this way, all shaky and weak and sick and dragging a stupid baseball bat because she couldn't stand to go back for her weapon and now she was going to cry because she didn't feel good and she didn't want him to see her like this -- 

Too late. There he was. Mulder. Wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans and a look of surprise on his face that changed immediately to something softer and kinder. She was so glad to see him but she didn't want him there which was stupid and contradictory but she couldn't help it. He looked down at her hand. 

"Whoa, slugger. I don't think you're up to playing in the game today. Maybe you'd better sit this one out." 

"Mulder, what are you doing here?" 

God, she hadn't sounded that whiny since she was six. In fact, she'd never sounded that whiny even when she _was_ six! She really hated being sick. 

"I came over to see how you were. I thought you might like a little help." He waved a hand at the bat. "I know you're particular about housework, but I didn't realize you were _that_ picky. Is this how you greet all your hired help?" 

His face wavered until she blinked a couple times. "I don't remember hiring you." 

"It was in the Bureau contract you signed. You mean you didn't read the fine print?" 

She had to smile. She couldn't stop herself. He was so goofy and silly and endearing and he was exactly what she needed even if she'd rather he didn't see her when she was sick but she was feeling better already just from looking at him. 

He smiled back. She jumped when his cold fingers touched her cheek. How did he do that? He hadn't moved. Had he? 

Mulder stopped smiling and frowned. His hand moved from her cheek to her forehead, then to her cheek again but he was touching her with the back of his hand instead of his palm and then he leaned closer and kissed her forehead. 

They'd progressed to the kissing part? How did she miss that? 

"You have a fever, Martha Stewart. Let's get you some Tylenol and put you back in bed." 

Huh. She had a fever? A shiver tickled her neck and set her whole body shaking. Oh yeah. Fever and chills. She should have taken something for that. Why hadn't she though of it instead of waiting for Mulder to find out with his cold, smooth fingers and his kisses? 

He grabbed her shoulders and slowly turned her back toward her bedroom. It was so far away. She really didn't know if she could walk aaalll that way back again. 

"You want me to carry you, Scully?" 

Now there was a picture. Mulder carrying her like Scarlet O'Hara, with her in a wrinkled, smelly robe and messy hair, dangling a baseball bat from her fingers. 

Nope. She could probably walk, but she didn't think she could drag that bat another step. She looked over her shoulder and waited for his face to come into focus. 

"I can walk. But you could carry the bat for me." 

He smiled again and gently took it from her hand. 

"I think I can do that. Now let's get you settled. Why were you out of bed in the first place?" 

She was shuffling down the hallway before she remembered moving. What was the question again? She couldn't remember that, either. 

Out of bed! Right. Why _was_ she out of bed? 

"Because I heard someone moving around and I didn't know who it was." 

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to wake you." 

"I don't think I was really asleep anyway, Mulder. I was just sort of... not sleeping." 

"Rough night?" 

They'd made it to the bed. Thank God. Scully couldn't remember it ever looking so inviting before. "You could say that." 

She gingerly bent her aching legs and sat on the side of the mattress. When she blinked, Mulder had disappeared but he was back when she blinked again, this time holding a glass of water, two pills and her electronic thermometer. 

"Whassat?" Damn. She wasn't even forming whole sentences anymore. That probably wasn't good but she couldn't be sure. 

"I'm gonna take your temp. Then you're going to take these Tylenol and crawl back into bed. Or are you hungry? You want something to eat while the pills kick in?" 

"Not hungry. Just tired and sore." She must be really sick. Usually she wouldn't admit something like that to herself, let alone Mulder. 

"How's your stomach?" 

"Empty. But not sick. I'll eat later." 

"Okay. There's some chicken soup keeping warm on the stove. Let's see if you can blow the bulb off the thermometer and then you can get some more sleep." 

She opened her mouth to tell him that electronic thermometers don't have bulbs or even mercury, but he stuck the end of it under her tongue before she could say anything. It was cold and tasted plasticky and she wanted to spit it out but she just didn't have the energy. 

It beeped and Mulder slid it back out of her mouth. Blech. Nasty thing. 

"Good one, partner. A hundred and one point five. I'd say you're officially sick." 

"Was that your only clue?" 

He chuckled softly. 

"That and the glazed eyes. Here. Take the Tylenol and crawl under the covers. You should feel better in about fifteen minutes." 

"Is that your educated opinion as a physician, Dr. Mulder?" She took the pills one at a time and washed them down with as much water as she could stand, which wasn't much but it got the job done. He was smiling again when she handed back the glass. 

"That's my educated opinion as your friend, Agent Scully, based on years of experience and observation." 

He held the covers open and helped her to swing her feet underneath. He fluffed up the pillow, then guided her down to it, tucking the blankets in at her shoulders. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his concern and tender care, but she was already getting sleepy. She hadn't realized that her eyes were closed until the sound of his voice caused them to open again. 

"You planning to sleep in your robe? I can help you take it off." 

She snuggled her cheek into the pillow, closed her eyes, and sighed. "That's okay, Mulder. I've slept in it since last night. It can't get any more wrinkled than it already is." 

She felt his breath huff against her face as he quietly laughed, followed by his lips on her cheek once more. 

"Okay. You just get some rest. If you need anything, I'll be out in the living room ordering dirty pay-per-view movies from your cable company. I hope you feel better soon." 

"Actually, I feel pretty good right now." 

Another fleeting touch of his hand on her face and then she heard the bedroom door close. 

She really did feel better. Not great, but better. The pain reliever was starting to kick in and her muscles weren't quite so achy. Her head felt clearer, as well, but she was too tired to stay up much longer. 

Maybe having Mulder around wasn't such a bad thing. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her sick before. Or injured. Angry. Dirty, not at her prettiest. It hadn't bothered him before. Why should she let it bother her now? He was her friend. They were best friends, really. And taking care of each other was what friends did. She might just be able to get through this stupid flu with a little help from her friend. 

She fell asleep with the Beatles tune running through her head. 

* * *

**THE END**

Feedback: 

Homepage: http://www.mimicsmusings.com 

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Title: **Getting By**  
Author: mimic117  
Details: 12k  ·  G  ·  Standalone  ·  01/04/06  ·   Email/Website      
Gossamer Category(Keywords): Vignette   [Friendship]     
Characters: Mulder/Scully     
Pairings: Mulder/Scully friendship   
SPOILERS: none   
SUMMARY: Sometimes it's easier to get by with a little help   
from our friends.   



End file.
